The Dating Game
by ArrowandShield
Summary: Steve finally approaches Clint with a proposition. CaptainHawk! Asex!Clint. Straight!Steve.


**Steve finally approaches Clint with a proposition...**

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**The Dating Game  
**  
Steve was old fashioned.

That was not a new fact. Steve dressed plainly and fitting of his native time. The same for music and movies. He preferred simple foods, though he was not unwilling to try anything put in front of him. He wanted the newspaper before trying to find out his information online. Ignored televisions and tabloids and popular magazines. Was painfully polite and chivalrous even if it got him yelled at or slapped.

He wasn't so much a man out of time as people made him out to be, he learned and adapted and functioned casually enough that not many gave him a second glance except to look at his hair more than once or get caught in his eyes and smile, which were dangerously sweet and nothing short of glaringly handsome.

Steve was the ultimate boy next door, with modern morals and idealology of equality and balanced government, social and religious aspects to make the modern altruist weep at the perfection.

Steve was charming and heroic, smart and steadfast and loyal to a point of fault and yes… Steve was old fashioned.

So when Steve had politely approached Clint and with a faint blush and averted eyes formally asked the archer out on a date, Clint was both surprised and not at the same time. He'd actually burst out laughing, they've seen each other at their worse, patched each other back together. Seen each other naked and screaming and crying. Slept in each other's beds to sooth away nightmares, scrubbed each other's faces to help break fevers and wash away traces of sick. In Clint's mind they were far beyond the formality of dates but he should have known. This was Steve.

It made him feel like a royal bastard when he saw the embarrassed flush and humiliated hurt in Steve's eyes. The archer has called and pleaded and begged through the door of Steve's bedroom. Promising that it wasn't the question, just the circumstance. Clint was nearly hoarse and had made enough promises to forget eighty percent of them before Steve had tentatively opened the door a crack to look at him with one, bright and fearful blue eye. Clint made a few more promises and reassurances before Steve had relaxed enough to speak to him directly, without the door in the way.

Steve wanted to surprise him and Clint, still feeling horrible about accidentally humiliating the soldier agreed without a fuss. Only asked what he should wear.

A pair of slacks and a crisp, pale purple button down made of faux silk, with the sleeves rolled comfortably up to his elbows. Polished combat boots and leather belt, though he didn't tuck in his shirt. He even slipped on a wide leather bracelet around his wrist and a choker with onyx, amethyst and silver beads strung on delicate silver chain.

It was the most Clint had dressed up in years. He was actually fidgeting nervously before Steve "picked him up" in the kitchen of the apartment. The soldier looked particularly dashing in a dark green shirt buttoned to the top and down to the cuffs, crisp tan slacks and dark brown Dockers. Clint and actually blushed at the way Steve had looked at him with obvious appreciation but he returned the look whole heartedly.

Clint had actually blushed. And Steve seemed to be in a perpetual state of blushing recently.

The archer had never been on a date, not a successful one, so he was likely just as nervous as Steve.

He was right to be anxious.

The soldier had gotten them a quiet table in a rather expensive and well known restaurant. The platters had been small and dainty and clearly artistic. The way one think wobbled on Clint's plate the archer was half sure that it was still alive to a degree. The waiter had been disdainful and seemed to actually be offended when they refused alcohol. They had been silent during most of the meal, unusual for them, but any attempt to talk to each other, at least by making fun of the food and eclectic atmosphere was met with harsh glares from other patrons and their already dangerously pissed of waiter. The desert was loaded down with hidden white chocolate and the archer had been lucky enough to smell it before digging in. And Steve had paled at the bill but refused to allow Clint to put in a share.

Next was a show on Broadway. They slipped in just in time, having to squeeze passed disgruntled, overdressed die-hard theater buffs to sit in the center of their balcony row. Luckily their keen eyes sight made it easy to see the stage far below but there was no mistaking the screeching wails from the rail thin singers below as they leapt around in costumes. It was all in Italian, a language neither of them spoke and couldn't understand the story line at all. And they just seemed to bounce off the walls, their costumes changing shape and color as he moved, spinning and twirling and somersaulting…

Clint had no idea what had been in his meal that had made him sick to his stomach but he was grateful for Steve there to rub his back.

By the time they were sitting on a cast iron bench in a small park, trying to ignore the sounds of a couple having sex in a near by bush Steve was in fits trying to apologize. He was beside himself.

Clint had gently taken his hands, smoothing the chafed skin from where Steve had nearly rubbed it raw by wringing them. Clint had smiled and mindful of his bad breath gently kissed the center of one of Steve's palms and reassured that the night, thought now pushing towards one AM was actually still very young.

They walked through the park and the neighborhood. They found a small café hidden snuggly between a dry cleaners and sipped sweet and spicy coffees and gorged themselves of buttery flakey croissants, blueberry muffins and oatmeal raisin cookies. And talked idly about anything in particular but especially about the snobbish restaurant and the skimpy food and foul tempered waiter, just for the vengeance that was in the action.

A walk in the general direction towards home and they were treated to a short procession of hansom cab drivers walking their horses back to the livery stable for the night. Clint couldn't help himself and approached a particular cabbie with a large black, draft horse in tow and was allowed to give the large mare the remaining bit of one of his cookies. The cabbie offered to give them a free ride as far as the livery. It was in the right direction for heading back to Brooklyn and Steve and Clint accepted on whim, intending to pay the cabbie in full. The ride was one of a kind down the main thoroughfares, the city a glow with late night electricity fluttering around them and the steady drumming clip clop of the horses on their way to rest before and behind them.

At the livery their money was refused but they made use of themselves by filling grain bins, water buckets and hay racks for the tired horses, more than once receiving grateful whinnies, nips and snuffles in their palms from their meals. Stopping only to pet barn cats and stable dogs as they worked. Clint giving a final hug to the large black draft horse that had given them the ride before they slipped back out onto the street.

They weren't far from home now and walked as a sedate and casual through Brooklyn, stopping to listen to any street performer as they did, dropping a few dollars and coins into every hat, cup and case that was held up to them.

Steve gently plucked a calla lilly blossom from a public green and presented it to Clint with a careful kiss on the cheek. That night Clint would carefully arrange the calla lilly and press it in a book and many years later have the blossom carefully lacquered and mounted under glass to hang on the wall in a frame. The archer insisted on holding hands the rest of the walk back to the apartment. For the novelty of it Clint stood on the stoop and smiling, laughing at their whimsy Steve 'kissed him goodnight' before they headed up to the apartment.

A scrub, worn pajamas, a small night cap of ice cold milk and Clint confessed it was the best first date that he'd even been on as soon as they quit trying to force it into being the best first date they'd ever had. Steve confessed that he'd gotten the dating advice from Tony.

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**A/N: And its the 'official' beginning of the CaptainHawk! Whoo!**


End file.
